


a home of their own

by Saraste



Series: A Cottage on the Cliffs [7]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Domestic, F/F, Femslash, Femslash February, Moving In Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-25 00:01:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9793352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saraste/pseuds/Saraste
Summary: Sansa and Margaery moved into their cottage on the cliffs.





	

**Author's Note:**

> No prompt used for this one.

Sansa can barely suppress her excitement as she opens the door of the cottage,  _ their cottage, _ stepping in through the door, her tread light. Margaery is following behind her, having let Sansa enter first, the door closes softly behind her. This is their home. To Sansa, it does not feel too small, even when her reference is Winterfell with its vast rooms, the stone always so cold in the winter, the cottage does not feel like it could ever be cold in the winter. It’s small and whitewashed, with a rose trailing up and around the doorway with a little garden surrounded by a stone wall, with the sea and cliffs as a backdrop. 

 

‘I love it!’ Sansa says, turning to look at Margaery, her eyes wide. 

 

Margaery smiles back at her, is able to be unguarded in her show of affection, as they are by themselves. She can kiss Sansa at will and does, pressing her lips gently against hers, letting their touch linger until they have both kissed their fill. They embrace each other for a long time there in the entryway, just inside their home.

 

‘I really like it, too,’ Margaery complies, she sounds happy.

 

Both of them have reasons enough to not be this happy, to have this happiness be tainted by what once was as is no longer, but they have vowed to live in the moment, to be in the now, to give each other everything that they have. They have paid too much to do otherwise, that they get to be together now, that they are able to choose to fade away from Society, is all because of the high price paid. Both are just happy they did not need to run away and disappoint their families too much. 

 

They go through all the rooms hand in hand, knowing nothing of anything, really, but assured in their naivete that all is in good repair. There are two beds in the bedroom but they know only one will get used, neither of them cares if they will be cramped, sleeping in the same bed is a luxury, a gift, and they both will take full advantage.

 

‘Our own bed,’ Sansa sighs, leaning her head back onto Margaery’s shoulders. Margaery’s hands are clasped together under her breasts, Sansa pressed against her body. 

 

Margaery doesn’t move her arms, nor her hands but there is suggestion enough between them, suggestion enough in Margaery’s words. ‘Where we can do what we want.’

 

They make their way to the beds and Sansa prods at the crocheted quilts covering the beds as she stands between them, a cloud of dust arises. ‘These need to…’ she hesitates a little, ‘I think you’re supposed to bring them outside and shake them to get the dust out? Maybe hang them to air out?’

 

‘I would think so,’ Margaery says, abstracted, ‘the floor looks clean enough to me, unless you have a secret desire to begin learning cleaning on our first day?’

 

Sansa flings herself at Margaery, hands clasped around her neck, giggling. ‘No! But come, help me to get these out, it’s such a lovely day outside, too, I don’t want to be inside all the time.’

 

She doesn’t say it but Margaery knows what she means. Sansa has preferred being outside more than in ever since… They never talk about it even when it would be better if they did. Margaery cannot blame Sansa, but hopes that she will not begin to feel too cooped up once winter comes and the weather turns bad. 

 

Margaery sets her hand on Sansa’s shoulder, content to just be in this moment with Sansa. ‘Yes, let’s do that.’


End file.
